


The Way Home

by p_pieona



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Accidental wetting, Clothed Wetting, Embarrassment, Established Relationship, M/M, Omorashi, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-30
Updated: 2017-08-30
Packaged: 2018-12-21 19:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11950830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_pieona/pseuds/p_pieona
Summary: I mean I think the tags say it all, so.





	The Way Home

“Don’t you think that’s a little bit too much for you?” Misha asks skeptically when Jensen gulps down his second bottle in a few hours.

Jensen just shrugs. “It’s hot, man,” he says and looks at the bottle. “I’m probably going to need more if we’re going to stay here for much longer.”

Misha looks at his watch. “I don’t think it’ll be that long,” he answers. “An hour, maybe?”

“Fuck,” Jensen groans. “Why do we even _need_ to shot this scene in, like, the middle of nowhere?”

He obviously doesn’t expect an answer because he just gets up to the small pile of food and drinks and gets himself another bottle. Misha watches him warily. “You want something too?” Jensen asks and waves the bottle.

Since they’re still not filming, Misha just sighs and nods.

//////////

They’re filming the few scenes between Dean and Cas with almost no interruption; Jensen sometimes sighs and mumbles something about why the fuck _they_ have to be the ones who are on set that long. He fucks up a few lines and Misha can feel Jensen’s mood gradually getting worse so he just tries to make it smooth by delivering his lines perfectly.

To be honest, he’s getting kind of fed up too, given that they’re the only ones still working. And Jensen sighing and fidgeting around doesn’t particularly help either.

In the end, they make it by the eighth take and Misha is grateful for that. Wrapping up means that they can go back to the trailer, gather their stuff and leave for home. They have the day off tomorrow meaning that they’re going to use the time for whatever is on their mind tonight; judging Jensen’s bad mood it’s probably not going to be more than a quick blowjob and a DVD, but he doesn’t want to complain. He’s tired and cranky too.

“Come on, let’s go,” Jensen says and pats Misha on his shoulder. “You’re driving, right?”

Misha shrugs. “I guess I can,” he answers. “If you don’t want to?”

“No, thanks. Let’s just get this show on the road.” With that, he fishes his keys out of his trousers and hands them to Misha who happily takes them. It’s rare enough that he gets to drive Jensen’s car – sometimes, he fusses over it more than Dean over his Baby.

“This was so much bullshit,” Jensen says when they’re on their way to the car. “Why did they call us in for that. This didn’t even make sense, they only make Dean and Cas more gay every scene.”

“Maybe they drew inspiration from real life,” Misha answers and nudges Jensen in the site. But instead of laughing – or nervously glancing around who may have heard that – Jensen doesn’t say anything.

“This was bullshit,” he repeats and Misha decides that it’s probably best to just stop cheering Jensen up since he’s obviously not in the mood.

When they’re at the car, Jensen stands at the door and looks around for a few moments.

“You okay?” Misha asks and Jensen looks at him surprised.

“Um, yes,” he says after a moment and shakes his head. “Let’s just get home, I’m fucking tired.”

//////////

Jensen continues to not say much when they start their journey. He lays his head against the window and sighs which is unusual because normally Jensen is chatty and happy when they finally get a night together. And while it’s late, it’s not that late that it would justify him being really tired.

But he doesn’t want to start a fight so he just lets it slide, trying to initiate small talk every now and then. Jensen barely reacts and if he does it’s just a few words. Finally, Misha gives up.

“Someone’s grumpy today,” he says and watches Jensen out of the corner of his eye. He is sitting upright now; a hand is in his jeans pockets, with the other he taps a rhythm on his thigh. He looks distressed and only grunts in response.

“I just want to go home,” he says. “This was bullshit.”

“I think you’ve said that before.”

“Yeah, well, because it’s _true_.” He shifts in his seat and fumbles with the buttons of the radio without turning it on.

Come to think of it, he’s been acting pretty shift ever since they left the set. Actually, way before that. And the way he’s pressing his legs together –

“Do you need to pee?” Misha asks.

Jensen throws him a dirty look. “Fuck you,” he answers.

“I take that as a yes.” Misha laughs.

“Dude, that’s not funny,” Jensen hisses.

That makes him laugh even more. “It’s a little funny. I _told_ you to lay off the water.”

“It was hot. I thought I’d just sweat it all out.”

“I don’t think you know how the human body works.”

“Fuck off,” Jensen growls. “Just hurry up. I don’t want to piss in a bush or something.”

Misha shifts in his seat. He really think it is funny – but the thought of watching Jensen piss somewhere is _also_ really exciting. It’s not something he ever brought up, though, and he don’t thinks it would be nice of him to bring it up _now_.

Not when Jensen is obviously in distress and sweating nervously. Now that he’s told him of his predicament he doesn’t even try to hold back, shifting around endlessly and holding himself while swearing at everything that he sees outside the window: the red street light, the cat that makes Misha drive more slowly until she crossed the street, _everything_.

He’s almost tempted to make a detour or slow down for whatever bullshit reason, but he tries to hold it together.

When they drive over a bump with a bit more force than necessary he can hear Jensen swear and whimper and worry overcomes his arousal for a bit. “You okay?” he asks. “I can just stop, you know. No one’s here anyway and it’s dark.”

“Yeah, and as soon as I start there are ten paparazzi. Great idea.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Can we – like, not talk about this?” Jensen groans. “Just drive.”

Misha complies and drives for a few minutes. Jensen keeps shifting in his seat, holding himself with one hand and tapping a weird rhythm on his thigh with the other. He tries, really tries, to keep his gaze off Jensen, but since it’s pretty late and the streets are empty it’s not like he has anywhere more interesting to look.

After a while, Jensen notices him and grumbles “Would you stop staring at me?”

Misha looks at the street again. “Sorry.”

“Seriously, what’s so interesting? Want to see if I wet myself?” Jensen tries to laugh but it falls flat when Misha shifts nervously in his seat. “Oh God, please don’t tell me you do.”

“Well, it _would_ be sad if you messed up your precious baby,” Misha tries to steer the conversation into another direction and it actually works for a bit because now Jensen has an even more panicked look on his face.

“Oh _fuck fuck fuck please don’t say this_. I really need to go so bad but I don’t want to ruin anything in here. Maybe you really have to pull over, _shit_ ,” he swears and fumbles with the buttons of his jeans.

“You want me to pull over?” Misha asks and for a moment, Jensen seems to seriously consider it.

“How long till we’re at your place?” he asks.

“I don’t know, 10 minutes maybe?”

“This is why it’s bullshit to film in the middle of nowhere. And your place sucks, why didn’t we drive to mine, _fuck_.”

“Because I have the bigger bathtub?”

Jensen groans. “Let’s not talk about bathtubs.”

“Alright,” Misha says and brings all his attention back to driving. He tries to not look at Jensen, but at this point it almost isn’t needed anymore. He can feel – and hear – him shift in his seat, moving his legs, and the swearing has turned into a frantic muttered discussion with himself exactly how long they’re going to take, trying to psyche himself up to make it.

Apparently, he’s still staring every now and then, because he now can feel Jensen watching him back.

“Seriously, don’t tell me you like this,” he says, groaning.

“What?”

Jensen looks like he’s going to murder him soon. With the hand he isn’t using to hold himself he waves at himself. “Me. Needing to piss fucking bad. You’re staring at me all the time.”

“Would it make you feel better if I did?”

“ _Oh God_ , I take that as a yes.”

Misha doesn’t answer.

“You’re suck a kinky bastard. And I thought I knew everything about you.”

Jensen’s still holding himself, but it seems like the conversation is actually helping a bit, so Misha tries to keep it going. It’s not like it’s useful to deny it now, anyway.

“Well, I’m full of surprises.”

“We need to talk about this when I’m not on the verge of wetting myself. At least now I know at least that you wouldn’t mind if I pissed myself.”

Misha gulps. He _definitely_ wouldn’t mind. “Why, will you?” he tries to ask as steady as he can.

“Fuck, I hope not. It’s only a few minutes now, I’ll be damned if I can’t fucking hold it till then. _Fuck_.”

He taps on the window and looks around the blocks. “We’re there soon, right? It’s too fucking dark and I can’t concentrate.”

“Yeah. 3 blocks.”

“Thank God,” he mutters. “Fuck, I need to piss so bad.”

“I noticed,” Misha says dryly.

“Fuck you. Seriously, you should have taken the bottle away from me. Or at least make me take the bottles with me so I could pee in them. Fuck, I shouldn’t talk about this this much.”

“You swear an awful lot, Mr. Ackles.”

Jensen just flips him off before putting his other hand on his crotch, too. “2 minutes, right?” he asks. “And you’re not going to, like, mock me and not open the door?”

“You really think I would do that?”

“Who knows. I don’t know what kind of kinky shit you are into.”

“I’m generally not into _any_ kind of kinky shit that my partner hasn’t consented to.”

“Good.” Jensen takes a deep breath. “Fuck, that’s your street right? Oh thank – oh _fuck_.”

He stops moving his legs and instead presses them together, cramming his hands even more into his crotch. Misha swears he can hear him whine a bit.

“Do you know that feeling when you’re almost at a toilet and your muscles just start to give up? Fuck, we should have just stopped somewhere,” he groans.

“I _offered_.”

“Yeah, I know, just park the fucking car.” His legs are wiggling again and he’s biting his lip every now and then. “I don’t even know if I can stand up right now. It hurts so much already and I _don’t want to move_.”

“Just, try to breathe.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“That’s easy for someone to say who has experience with that,” Misha answers as he slowly drives into the parking garage. “Just breathe and try to not to tense up too much. I know it’s hard, but it just makes you feel worse.”

“If I’m not tense I’m gonna piss myself even more than I already have,” Jensen groans. Misha puts a hand on Jensen’s knee for comfort but finds that he misses his regular parking spot because of that.

If the whimper is anything to go by, Jensen notices it too when Misha slows down. “Dude, just park anywhere,” he says. “It’s not like anyone _cares_. Seriously, I’m not joking, I’m really really fucking not joking.”

“I paid for that spot. It’s bigger than the others,” Misha says sourly but ultimately just takes the next spot. He’s not parking very gracefully but he figures he can just go and correct that afterwards; he really doesn’t want Jensen to suffer even more than he does right now. “Alright, you want to take the keys while I put the stuff out of the car or do you need me to open the door?”

Jensen doesn’t say anything – he has closed his eyes and isn’t moving at all except for the occasional wobble of his leg.

“You’re okay, buddy?”

“ _No_.”

“Okay.”

“Can you like, um, help me out of the car?” he says so quietly that Misha has trouble understanding him. But he just nods and gets out for real this time, quickly moving to the other side and opening the door for him.

“This is bullshit,” Jensen winces. “But I really feel like if I make one move I’m gonna piss myself. _Fuck_.”

“We’re almost there. I’m sure you can do it.”

“That’s the problem,” Jensen winces. “Every time I think about your bathroom I just have to pee even worse.”

Misha looks around; the garage is, apart from two cars, completely empty. “You could always go here,” he suggests. “If it hurts that much.”

“There are cameras here,” Jensen hisses.

“Well, I didn’t say you should whip out your dick and spray piss everywhere. But if you just go behind the car it’s not like anyone will see. And it’s not my parking spot anyway.”

“Fuck. Why are we talking about this?”

“Because you’re not getting out of the car?”

“I know, I know, I’m just – I’m trying, okay?” Jensen looks like he’s crying now and still hasn’t moved a bit.

Misha sighs. “It’s not gonna get easier the longer you wait, you know.”

Jensen just nods and then actually tries to stand up which proves to be difficult while he’s still holding his dick. “Fuck,” he swears again when he’s finally out of the car and bouncing frantically. “This hurts so fucking much.”

Misha closes the door and puts an arm around Jensen’s shoulder. “Any minute now,” he says soothingly when he locks the car. “You okay to go?”

Jensen shakes his head and then nods. “I guess so,” he says. He’s still bouncing and trying to find a way to grab himself a bit more discreetly, but it doesn’t look like he’s successful with it. Misha is wondering why he’s even trying because, holding himself or not, it’s painfully obvious what his problem is and it’s not like it’s likely that anyone is going to see them.

Without further comments, they go – or rather, waddle – towards the elevator while Jensen tries his hardest not to cry. Every now and then he mutters some new swear words, some of which Misha hasn’t ever heard in his life, and occasionally winces and stops for a moment before being able to walk again.

They have to wait for the elevator to come down; Jensen leans against the wall and tries his hardest to hold on but it’s clear that he doesn’t have much restrain left. He keeps cramming his hands into is crotch in different positions and can’t stand still for even a moment.

“This feels like it’s literally in my dick, what the fuck,” he cries. “I didn’t have to piss this bad in my entire _li –_ _fuck.”_ There’s a small hissing sound and Jensen doubles over, frantically muttering _shit shit shit_.

Misha is at his side and tries to comfort him by rubbing his arm but he doesn’t even react. After a few seconds it’s over but now there are real tears in his eyes. The elevator dings and opens its door.

“You’re okay?” Misha asks.

“Do I look like I’m okay, _I just pissed my boxers a little_ ,” Jensen snaps back and tries to enter the elevator as gracefully as he can.

In the bright light he looks even more distressed and Misha can see that his jeans are a shade darker around his crotch and even a bit the inside of his thighs. Jensen’s leaning his head against the wall and doesn’t say anything so Misha doesn’t, either.

The ride only lasts for maybe half a minute but Jensen still groans when they’re arriving at the right floor. “Can you go ahead and open the door?” he asks and Misha does as he’s told. He fumbles the key while he can hear Jensen swear and slowly make his way towards his flat. When it’s open he takes a step aside and lets Jensen go in first (at least he knows his way around).

Jensen all but stumbles right in and then stops. “Fuck,” he groans and then Misha can hear the hissing again and Jensen whimpering again. He’s just standing there, in the living room, and completely pisses himself.

He doesn’t even try to stop it, doesn’t try to run towards the bathroom, just puts his hands away when they’re starting to get wet too, and bites his lip. It’s not until he’s starting to form a small puddle under his feet and his jeans are almost completely soaked that he notices what he’s doing and starts to cry.

Until now, Misha just stood there and stared but now he’s at his side, trying to comfort him and slowly directing him to the bathroom. It’s not like it’s of much use, not with the fact that he’s still going (and holy shit, how much did he drink?), but he figures that this will at least help Jensen feel a bit better.

When they’re in the bathroom he just sits Jensen down on the toilet without even bothering with pulling his jeans down and kneels down beside him, trying to pull him into a hug.

“Dude, why are you doing this?” Jensen asks but buries his face in his shoulder. “I’m like, still not finished, and I’m probably going to make you wet too.”

“Yeah, and that would totally be the first time I ever had piss on my clothes,” Misha says sarcastically. Jensen laughs, but he still sounds like he’s crying at least a bit.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “This is fucking embarrassing.”

“It’s only embarrassing if you let it be,” Misha answers. “At least you feel better now.”

“Well, if by better you mean ‘I don’t feel like my bladder is trying to kill me’, then yes. Otherwise, not really. Fuck, I’m going to need some clean clothes.”

“I can get some,” Misha offers immediately. He feels a bit bad about the whole thing – while it’s not like he initiated it, he still found the whole ordeal incredibly exciting. It feels almost like betraying him in some form.

“Yeah, okay,” Jensen says. “Just, would you stay with me for a second here? I really don’t want to go back to the living room and see the whole thing.”

“Sure.” With that, Misha puts a quick kiss on his lips and this time, Jensen lets it. When they pull apart, he chuckles.

“So that’s what you find sexy?” he says. “You’re a kinky bastard. Maybe _you_ should be embarrassed.”

Misha shrugs. “Well, it would have helped if you were into it, too, but yes, that _was_ sexy.”

“So if I ever need to piss badly again, I just go over to your place and pee on your carpet?”

“Urgh, I hope you didn’t get too much on the carpet. That’s a bitch to get out. But yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“I have to admit, now that I’m done, I really feel fucking better.”

“That’s _also_ the general idea, yeah.”

Jensen kisses him, a bit longer this time, and Misha can feel his arousal burning up again. “I should get you some clean clothes,” he mutters and Jensen nods.

“Maybe we should just strip down and take a shower together,” he suggests. “I _definitely_ need one.”


End file.
